


still think about you

by choicolatte



Category: GOT7
Genre: 2young as apartment neighbors au, M/M, affected by past relationships, deep conversations with a blossoming new love :), jinyoung just wanting one good night's sleep, youngjae downing soju and crying ab jaebeom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicolatte/pseuds/choicolatte
Summary: I get exhausted from crying, I am drowned with the thoughts of you. But I will heal in time.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	still think about you

**Author's Note:**

> sooooooo i wasn't expecting to be inspired to write a 2young fic, but it happened and here ya go. 
> 
> i'm done with my last first quarter of college (did that make sense) and it's making me feel things i don't wanna talk about :-)
> 
> so let's talk about youngjae and jinyoung instead!! ehe

It’s another night without him. What was supposed to be a date celebrating something meaningful to both of them, Youngjae just feels anger and a touch of unwarranted longing filling his fast-beating heart.

He couldn’t seem to slow it down every time he wakes up to this particular day of the month. Youngjae lies to himself that he’s desensitized to how much it affects him greatly. Sure, the first few times were awful — a lot of screaming and bouts of crying reverberated inside his dimly lit room, the resident below his unit even attempted to call the police on him. 

The fourth time it happened, Youngjae hears the urgent knocks banging against his front door, his breaths erratic from crying his chest out. There was that naive thought guessing who was behind all the noise coming from outside his apartment, even though Youngjae knew it was far from the truth. 

Even still, he stands up from his spot on the living room floor and stumbles his way to the entrance. Empty bottles of soju make a disorganized line on his kitchen counter. Youngjae glances at them for a quick second, gulping his incoming hiccup. What would he think of Youngjae when he witnesses the mess he had dived himself deep into? 

“You — you came back,” he manages to slur, back hunched and his head attempting to look up at his intruder. “After four months, you b-bastard,” he continues, the hiccup he suppressed finally coming out of his throat. Youngjae feels how scratchy it had become, needing some type of liquid to soothe his thirst. He thinks about the two other bottles of alcohol left inside his fridge, but before he can wobble his way to go look for them, the person concerned for his safety stopped him with a gentle grasp to his arm. 

“Are you okay?” His voice asks, worry laced in deep tones. Youngjae wanted him to repeat, so he can properly assess how much _his_ voice had changed — too deep, too serious, too not like _him_. Has it really been that long? 

“Are you all alone? Do you have any friends or family I can call to take care of you?” The man keeps talking, and Youngjae continues to become more and more frustrated at how different Jaebeom sounded like. He tries to blink away the confusion forming in his mind, but his eyes are blurry with tears threatening to escape and cascade down dried cheeks. 

A heart that endured so much longing and craved attention is now burdened with anxiety and a loss for a response. Youngjae tries to recalibrate his receding vision but without his contacts or glasses, the man before him remains unrecognized. 

Yet, he desperately tries. 

“Jaebeom hyung…” Youngjae lingers, turning to who he thought this man was standing before him before slowly reaching out to cup soft skin under his sweaty palm. He flinches at Youngjae’s touch but immediately brings his own hand, squeezing him for comfort. 

Maybe it was just Youngjae’s need to feel _someone_ holding him right now, but he smiles anyway, fooling himself that the wishes he had made every 11:11, 1:31, and 3:33 have started to bring their good fortune to his literal doorstep.

“It’s Jinyoung,” the man says, sighing at the drunk and helpless figure that is his neighbor a floor above his apartment. 

He honestly didn’t know what to expect bringing himself into the situation. He really just wanted a good night’s rest after an excruciatingly stressful day at work but Jinyoung forgot to remind himself that it was _that_ time of the month and, after waiting for his theory to be confirmed after the second time, he should have known better. 

“I don’t know what it is about the seventh of every month, but the wailing has to stop eventually,” he vented out to his co-worker and long-time friend Mark who lived a couple of blocks away. “You don’t mind me staying over tonight, do you?” Jinyoung hopes, his fingers massaging between his eyebrows. 

“Maybe it’s because of a monthsary or something,” Mark suggests as the shuffle of bed sheets echo through the call. “And yes. I do mind. You can’t stay over every seventh because of this. You need to call someone if it bothers you too much.” 

“It can’t be a monthsary if he’s crying about it,” Jinyoung counters, a groan escaping his lips as another burst of heaving became apparent above his ceiling. “I’ve told my landlord but I don’t think he gives a shit. I don’t want the police involved either because I just want him to cry a little less… loud.” 

“Not talking about celebrating it, dumbass,” Mark defended his statement as Jinyoung only sighs in the receiving end. Mark understood his friend’s frustration to an extent due to Jinyoung only recently moving into the apartment complex. But he knew Jinyoung can handle himself when it came to confrontations, so Mark was only doing him a favor by disagreeing to let him sleep over for the fourth time. 

“It’s probably a break up, and he’s just not dealing with it very well.” 

Jinyoung curses under his breath. Mark ensues a “tsk” sound, and before he gets reminded of what _he_ had gone through, Jinyoung tells him, “Fine. I’m off tomorrow anyway, so it doesn’t really matter if I don’t get enough sleep tonight. I’m going to knock on his door and see what I can do.”

“That’s my boy.” 

“Shut up.”

“Hope things work out — for you, and him,” Mark bids farewell, and as Jinyoung ends the call there is silence in his midst. Thinking he is safe from facing an awkward situation, he prepares to go back to bed when a thud falls right onto Jinyoung’s ceiling, and the sniffles begin to murmur once more. Jinyoung knows this is just the beginning of another crying session, and he surely didn’t want to search for another place to live in after looking through listings with considerable prices for so long. 

Following Mark’s advice albeit begrudgingly, he dons a pullover hoodie and dusts off his sweatpants, bringing his keys and phone with him. 

It’s unknown to Youngjae himself whether he refuses to hear what his name was or if he _did_ — loud and clear, even. Within the remaining rational parts of him, Youngjae wants to shake Jinyoung’s hold against him and slam the door shut. He didn’t want this stranger — actually, they’ve passed by each other going in and out of the gate — to see him so vulnerable and wanting, why would he even invite someone he didn’t know in the first place?

But Youngjae didn’t want to be rational tonight, and he let Jinyoung walk into his unit while guiding his intoxicated self away from the source of his physical instability and plopping him down instead on the couch. 

“I’m sorry for intruding in your home like this, but I doubt you’d remember this night anyway,” Jinyoung says out loud to no one in particular, eyeing his neighbor appearing to be exhausted from all the crying he has let himself drown in. Jinyoung’s frustration slowly changes to that of worry, eyebrows knitted with thoughts of making sure his upstairs neighbor doesn’t do anything to hurt himself even more throughout the night. 

“I’m going to grab you some water, okay? Stay right there.”

This apartment layout looked similar enough to Jinyoung’s, so maneuvering his way into the kitchen wasn’t that big of a problem. He tries to shy his gaze away from the ungodly amount of alcohol that was consumed by one man tonight, and focuses on bringing a glass full of water to ease the dehydration that must be felt by the man’s throat. 

Youngjae accepts the offer in silence, the strain in his eyes creeping up to him with an incoming migraine. They don’t talk for a full minute with Youngjae gulping down every droplet from the glass and Jinyoung looking anywhere besides his slumped figure. Apart from the mess of bottles, the apartment looked neat and minimalistic, save for a few picture frames on the drawer carrying the weight of a small yet functional flatscreen tv. 

An electronic keyboard is placed against a wall with the lone window of the room, dark blue curtains adorning its view. Sheets of music scatter themselves on the keys and some have dropped on the chair, the edge hanging dangerously in the air. Jinyoung thinks he’d hear how the paper would scrape against the carpeted floor if it did, suddenly aware at how quiet it had gotten for the first time in four months. 

Youngjae finds himself wanting more water, his hiccups subsiding but a coughing fit making its way out of his mouth. Jinyoung hears him trying to clear his throat, so he takes the empty glass from him and makes his way to pour him another. 

A ringtone breaks the silence which startles Jinyoung, spilling a bit of water from the glass. He turns to see Youngjae reaching for a phone stuck deep underneath one of the cushions, and immediately presses the green button to answer the call. Jinyoung doesn’t know if that was a good idea or not, but it was too late to take the phone away from him. 

“Yugyeomie? How are you?” Youngjae mutters, the slur in his voice unwavering. He is still pretty drunk to the core, but the drink of water calmed him down for a moment. “Me? Don’t worry about me! I’m always doing great, as you know,” he lies, a desperate laughter that only ends up in a coughing fit supporting his pretension. 

Jinyoung scoffs but feels himself drawn to the conversation. As if on cue, Youngjae finally meets eye contact with him and a small smile etches on his feature. 

“Oh, to prove it to you, I even have a friend over! Hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

“No — it’s —” 

“Introduce yourself, friend!” Youngjae asks, extending his arm towards Jinyoung in stride. Dumbfounded, Jinyoung stutters in his place before hearing this “Yugyeomie” on the other end shriek in shock. 

“Youngjae hyung, who is in the apartment with you? Hello? Hello?” 

“Uh, hi. Jinyoung, I’m Park Jinyoung. I live a floor below him.” Youngjae — he finally has a name to the face. 

“Oh, thank god. I thought he went out again without us knowing,” Yugyeom sighs evidently into the speakers, the information only making Jinyoung even more curious as to what really is up with Youngjae. “I apologize for his behavior, Jinyoung-ssi. I don’t know what he has said or done, but he’ll usually sober up if you tuck him in bed and play the song from his phone.” 

“Ah, Yugyeomie. I’m not a child like that, I can fall asleep on my own thank you much,” Youngjae interrupts, crossing his arms together with a pout of his lips. Jinyoung couldn’t help but stare, not really noticing how red and plump they were from the get go. 

“Tell that to the amount of times I had to drag your ass to bed and do exactly what I just said because you kept calling me saying stuff you shouldn’t anymore, hyung,” Yugyeom reprimands him. “Jinyoung-ssi, are you still there?” 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Great. My name’s Yugyeom, by the way,” he starts off. “I called because I usually help him out during times like this but I’m not in town this week, and Youngjae hyung _promised_ me he would be okay. Obviously, I don’t trust him and I was right. Can you please do me a favor and help him to bed? He has a recording session tomorrow morning, and I hate for him to miss it. He wouldn’t want to, either, but he can’t help to… be like this sometimes.”

So many questions run through Jinyoung’s mind, but the urgency in Yugyeom’s voice make it clear that Youngjae needed all the assistance he can get to bring him safely to his bed and make it in time for whatever appointment it was he had tomorrow. Well, Jinyoung did come by to figure out what was wrong with his neighbor once and for all and he’s finally getting to the truth, he might as well comply. 

“Alright, Yugyeom-ssi. I’ll help out. Do me a favor too, and tell him you were the one who came by his apartment tonight, okay?”

“Oh, but aren’t you his neighbor — “

“Yes, which is exactly why I don’t want to be involved in whatever is causing him distress like this every month. I tried to be tolerant of the first few times, but I willed myself to confront him because it was becoming too much of a disturbance. I have no business with his problems. I’m just doing this out of decency and concern for someone drinking himself to death,” Jinyoung explains, setting down the glass of water on the coffee table. 

Youngjae has snoozed off way before Jinyoung had declared his intentions out loud. He knew it was harsh, and something in him regrets saying it out loud like that — but Jinyoung remained his ground, wanting nothing more than to go back to his own room and forget this ever happened. 

After a few pauses, Yugyeom sighs into the speaker as he resigns, “I understand. I appreciate you helping him out still. I’ll let him know I came by when he sobers up tomorrow.” 

Thankful for the agreement, Jinyoung prepares to end the call until Yugyeom speaks up a little quietly this time, a question prompting a few thoughts in the older’s head. “I’m sorry for my bluntness, Jinyoung-ssi, but have you ever had your heart broken to a million pieces that it’s impossible to find all the parts to fix it anymore?” Almost immediately, Yugyeom chuckles awkwardly at his suddenness and apologizes. “I’m sorry. You’re already doing a lot for hyung. You can end the call now. I’ll text Youngjae hyung first thing —”

“Is that why he’s suffering like this?” Jinyoung sneaks in his own question, sitting down next to a sleeping Youngjae. He examines the way his eyelashes rests against his skin, hiding a mole of his underneath. Jinyoung trails his gaze towards Youngjae’s white shirt drenched in sweat, and his sweatpants that are probably suffocating him in so much warmth. He looks peaceful with his lips slightly parted to let out huffs of breathing — this is compared to the sorry sight he greeted Jinyoung with just a few moments prior. 

Jinyoung does wonder who let Youngjae become so affected that he needed to drink himself in sorrow instead of letting him surrender to a sweet slumber like this? 

“I know this is just a weird situation overall, but Youngjae is a really important person to me, and all of his other friends so we’re just concerned about his well-being recently. We want him to be happy, but the break up with Jaebeom hyung four months ago made it rough on him big time. He quit his job because they worked together, and Youngjae hyung couldn’t possibly be in the same room as him anymore.” 

“I see.”

“Youngjae hyung is usually a very resilient person, but the seventh is their monthsary, and I guess it is the only time that he allows himself to be sad about their relationship. We let him be for the first month, but knowing how much he drinks it became a real concern,” Yugyeom explains. 

“How come you don’t invite him over for some company, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Like, I said. We love Youngjae hyung a lot, and he only asks this one thing from us about the whole ordeal. I drive to his place after a few hours to check up on him, and eventually let him rest. I’m really sorry if he has been a nuisance to you, Jinyoung-ssi.” 

“He has to move on, somehow,” Jinyoung states, emotion void from his statement. “He can’t be burdening you, his friends, and himself like this forever.”

“I know that, but he needs time to heal.”

“It’s been four months, he should have already known there’s more to life than crying over an ex-boyfriend,” Jinyoung snaps unintentionally, memories of his own experiences resurfacing in the forefront of his mind. He didn’t mean to project, but deep within his tough exterior lies the repressed pain from a familiar situation that happened a year ago. 

“I apologize for my rudeness. Everyone deals with breakups differently. I still believe he needs to see someone or, at least, talk about it to you if you really want him to be happy,” Jinyoung surmises, glancing over at Youngjae. 

“I agree, Jinyoung-ssi. I’ll definitely sit him down soon. His tears shouldn’t be wasted over a man who clearly didn’t see his worth,” Yugyeom’s voice bears a hint of a grudge and resentment that Jinyoung recognized in a heartbeat. 

“It’s getting really late, Yugyeom-ssi. I’ll get him to bed and text you on his phone right after. Thanks for checking up on him, and have a good night.”

“You too, Jinyoung hyung,” Yugyeom drops the honorific in an unironic attempt to sound more grateful for his help. “I’m sure Youngjae will appreciate this. Thank you again.”

Youngjae stirs himself slightly, lifting his legs in an attempt to cozy up on the couch. Standing up, Jinyoung shakes the sleeping man before him but to no avail. “Youngjae,” he whispers first, testing out the name rolling out of his tongue. It feels different, unusual, yet Jinyoung wants to say it some more. 

“Youngjae, we need to get you to bed. Let’s go.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, your body is going to feel stiff if you sleep on the couch like that.”

“Hnnn…”

Since Youngjae wouldn’t budge, Jinyoung thinks the next best thing is to carry him to the room. Jinyoung sighs, the situation making it harder for him to literally attach himself to Youngjae but he needed to fulfill his word — he always does. There was a door to the right of the living room, and upon turning the doorknob it proved to be the compact bedroom in the unit. Peeking his head, Jinyoung sees that it was barely used — the bed was made too perfectly, and there was no mess in sight. 

“Let’s get you up,” Jinyoung states, bringing his hands underneath Youngjae’s arms to lift him off the couch. He wasn’t as heavy as he looked, but there definitely was some kind of resistance to taking him away from his previous position. Youngjae stands up by himself for a mere second before resting his head against Jinyoung’s shoulder, arms acting dead on either side of him. 

Jinyoung hovers his own hands around the sleeping figure nestled against him, unsure of what to make out of it. He feels the warmth creeping up his cheeks, but he reasons this out to the proximity of another body next to his and nothing more beyond how sweet and peaceful Youngjae had started to look to him. His electric blue hair seemed so soft to the touch, and Jinyoung smells a faint hint of mint exuding off of the thick locks of hair. Youngjae begins to stumble forward, so Jinyoung acted upon his instincts as he reaches for his waist, gripping him tightly. 

“J-Jinyoung hyung,” Youngjae’s voice is muffled against the fabric of the hoodie. “Why must it be like this, Jinyoung hyung?” 

He doesn’t exactly know if Youngjae is just sleep talking or has found himself conscious again, but what Jinyoung does know is that he needed him off of him soon or else he had to figure out what is up with the turning of his stomach by the second. He slides his hands onto Youngjae’s arms, distancing their bodies from each other a few inches in order to examine the look on the drunk boy’s face.

Youngjae resists, plopping his head down with more weight against the junction of Jinyoung’s neck, and holds onto him for dear life. 

“Please, hold me just for a little bit. I-I need this.”

Jinyoung feels his sadness lacing in Youngjae’s words, and as if on instinct he relaxes a bit from their intimate position before bringing his hand to pat his head softly. He doesn’t know how his act of nonchalance has drastically transformed to that of sympathy so quickly, but the recent information relayed to him from Yugyeom, and the whispered words of longing from Youngjae softened his senses. If the roles were reversed, Jinyoung thought, he would have appreciated someone’s reassuring touch too. 

“I will, Youngjae. Will you be able to wash up a little bit and change, though?” Jinyoung asks gently, pauses the way he caresses tresses of dyed hair waiting for Youngjae’s reply. He seems to nod against his collarbone, asking Jinyoung to give him a few minutes to tidy up. 

“Thank you, Youngjae. You go get cleaned up in the bathroom, and I’ll find you some clothes to wear.” 

Youngjae quietly releases himself from Jinyoung’s touch, the absence of his figure suddenly prevalent in the older’s mind. He tries to shake it off, his eyes following Youngjae’s hunched back making his way to the other side of the unit where the bathroom was. Jinyoung enters the bedroom, then, in search for some new clothes in the drawer. Neat and organized, as well, incredibly different from the way Youngjae has posed himself the beginning of this night — and all of the nights Jinyoung had been kept awake from his emotional mess. 

Picking up a new white shirt and a pair of thinner sweatpants, Jinyoung closes the drawer and makes his way to Youngjae. He knocks on the door once, telling him that he would leave the clothes on the floor until Youngjae opens the door slightly ajar — his face dramp from water and some of his bangs falling into his eyes. Youngjae’s eyes are a bit more awake this time, but his body still emanated exhaustion to which Jinyoung gazes downward. 

Youngjae is shirtless, his upper torso not too muscular but defined in the right curves nonetheless. A tattoo adorned diagonally on his arm as he flexes it enough while he supports himself against the door frame. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Youngjae says, seemingly unaware of Jinyoung’s reaction before taking the clothes he picked out for him. Jinyoung hurries away from the door, unknowingly clutching at the center of his hoodie, not knowing if Youngjae’s intoxication has seeped into his senses or he is just exhausted that everything feels like a shock to him now. He distracts his mind by cleaning up the bottles scattered on the counter, putting them all to one side and wiping away the surface with a clean paper towel. 

The smell of booze lingers through the room, so Jinyoung walks by the window in an attempt to open it slightly. He makes sure he’s not touching the keyboard or any of the papers, but one of them falls on the floor nonetheless. 

Finally letting some of the alcoholic scent out of the room with a bit of a chill coming in, Jinyoung bends down to pick up the piece of paper. He didn’t mean to look, but his eyes wander on the words messily written on the top. 

_For Jaebeom. Written at 1:31 am._

Jinyoung doesn’t understand music symbols nor terminologies, but he did get to skim through the lyrics — and Jinyoung definitely understands the weight of all those words. The paper goes back into the pile of others as Jinyoung hears the bathroom door open, Youngjae finally dressed in cleaner clothes and his visage looking less pale and more freshened up. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Jinyoung says back, blinking away the awe from his features. “Ready to sleep?”

Youngjae chuckles quietly, avoiding Jinyoung’s gaze but nods his head in response. He is still walking a little unsure of himself, so Jinyoung reaches out a hand that Youngjae accepts in turn, the warmth spreading throughout the both of them. Jinyoung leads him to the bedroom, and Youngjae with no hesitation crawls himself onto the plush mattress. 

“Are you cold?” Jinyoung asks, standing awkwardly next to the bed. 

“Not really. I’m fine like this, thank you.”

“Alright.”

It seems like Jinyoung’s duty has been completed, but his body wouldn’t let him leave. His eyes daringly watch Youngjae curl up to the side facing him, eyes threatening to flutter back to sleep while he yawns in the quiet. The room is dimly lit, another window on the other end of the room with blackout curtains shielding the night sky. Jinyoung thinks Youngjae has been living in the dark ever since the breakup. 

Youngjae’s hand rests underneath his cheeks, and usually at this point he’d succumb to his exhaustion and drunken state, but something seems to be missing. 

“You know, I’d remember it was you.”

Taken aback, Jinyoung blurts out, “Remember what?”

“That you took care of me tonight. I heard you ask Yugyeomie for that favor. I won’t believe him, you know,” Youngjae confesses. Jinyoung probably underestimated Youngjae’s ability to keep himself awake despite the alcohol lulling him to sleep while the phone conversation was happening. 

_But he looked so at peace_ , Jinyoung thought otherwise, not believing all the details he had said about his own opinion on the situation to Yugyeom on the phone. 

“Did you hear anything else besides that?”

“Just about the whole thing.”

“Shit,” Jinyoung lets out, hand coming into contact with his feverish forehead. He looks sicker than Youngjae does now, feeling the guilt trapping the voice in his throat to want to say sorry. 

“Don’t,” Youngjae sighs into the pillow before sitting himself up with his legs crossed. He runs his hands through his face, sobering up due to the much needed water coming into contact with his skin minutes prior in the bathroom. Yugyeom normally just let him go to sleep sweaty and uncomfortable from all the drinking, and just reminds him to take a long shower the next morning. Youngjae appreciates the change in routine he has all because of Jinyoung. 

“The last thing I need is for someone — who just met me today — to pity me over something I know is futile. You’re right, Jinyoung hyung — I need to move the fuck on from him and live better.”

“That’s not what I meant, Youngjae,” Jinyoung counters, hearing the apprehension in Youngjae’s voice. The younger grits his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes once more but he sniffles hard before he sends himself into the miserable state he already endured — and made Jinyoung a witness to — tonight. 

“Hey, Jinyoung hyung,” Youngjae diverts the topic, a small smile forming on his lips as he pats the space next to him on the bed. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow in suspicion but Youngjae only laughs. It was a refreshing sound from the seriousness of the atmosphere in the room. 

“Do you remember what you agreed to?” 

“Youngjae, stop being cryptic and just come out with it.”

“You’re no fun, hyung,” he playfully retorts back, and the pout on his lips makes Jinyoung falter in his own tough facade. He knows what Youngjae is talking about, his wish for it to be forgotten the moment he said it surely failed him — Youngjae remembers everything, he couldn’t get past it now. 

“You don’t seem to be too drunk anymore, you can fall asleep on your own.”

“You’re a meanie, Jinyoung hyung.”

“A meanie? Who uses that word nowadays?” A chuckle escapes Jinyoung’s lips as he hides it right away with his hand. Youngjae catches on, hastily grabbing ahold of his arms when Jinyoung loses his balance from the reaction. He falls into the bed, bumping foreheads with Youngjae that evoked a share of laughter from the two of them. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to fall,” Youngjae admits, letting Jinyoung go and gently patting the spot on the older’s forehead that rubbed a red mark. Jinyoung shakes his head, his eyes focused on Youngjae’s teary ones. 

“It’s honestly okay to cry. I’ve done it countless times. I understand to some extent,” Jinyoung mutters under his breath. Flashbacks of his own breakup have been muddling his thoughts while Youngjae was gone in the bathroom — the scars aren’t as fresh and painful any longer, but Jinyoung can’t deny that the ghost of what used to be happy memories with his ex-partner, Jackson, haunted him at times as if it just happened recently. 

A year has passed since their closure, and the first few months Jinyoung _was_ uncontrollably in anguish. He was more reactionary towards his friends than enclosing himself in his own space just like Youngjae, but their understanding to his sorrow was never taken for granted. 

Jinyoung let himself mourn the loss of a lover — that really knew him from the inside out — for six months at best until he decided it was time to displace himself from that part of his life. Jackson had moved back to Hong Kong to pursue his athletic career with greater audience, and Jinyoung was left in their shared apartment paying the last months of rent. Jackson had offered to give him the rest of his contribution until the lease was up, but any reminder of him would stir Jinyoung crazy. 

It’s been a year, and Jinyoung had moved cities and jump started a new career. His old friends remained in contact with him, but newly made connections just like with Mark sparked a new motivation for him to continue on and realize that, yes, life is much more than a failed relationship. 

“How did you do it, then?” Move on?” Youngjae asked, his fingertips stopping inches away from Jinyoung’s skin. His breath has emanated a similar minty scent like his hair, although the strong remnant of soju reminds Jinyoung that he is still drunk — maybe tipsy — and that this is the first time they have interacted, so any closer than they are right now feels like a violation of consent, and Jinyoung especially didn’t want to make Youngjae feel uncomfortable in his own home. 

“It took a lot, but I managed to just wake up and see what else was in store for me. Supportive friends, family, and a job I really liked. I had to transfer to a different school district due to moving cities, too, but I love my new kids nonetheless,” Jinyoung manages to explain a side of him, not minding the touch of Youngjae’s fingertips trailing nonexistent lines down to his cheek. 

“You work at a school? That’s amazing, I was a music therapist based in elementary school,” Youngjae adds, smiling at their similarities. Jinyoung returns the expression, holding onto Youngjae’s traveling hand and keeps it interlocked with his. He didn’t want him to stop, but if Youngjae kept trailing further who knows where this conversation could lead to. 

“I’m just a special education kindergarten teacher. It can get tough to handle sometimes, but seeing them happy and recognized for their improvements every day is what makes the job so much more worth it.”

“Don’t belittle yourself, hyung,” Youngjae reprimands him, clutching at their hands. “I have a similar background with my previous job. I had to quit because… he was my co-teacher,” Youngjae trails off, pieces of hurt and discomfort evident in his voice. 

“What do you do know?” Jinyoung asks gently, instead. 

“I write a couple of songs and send them to producers to sell. I make my own sometimes and record them just for fun, but Yugyeom and some other friends are urging me to give it a shot and play it for a recording company,” Youngjae says shyly, even in the dim of the room his blush brightens up his face. Jinyoung likes seeing this side of Youngjae, he observes, someone who enjoys what he does in life. 

“I don’t really want to make it _big_ , hypothetically speaking. I still want to continue being a music therapist, just not right now. It feels nice to know my friends support me in whatever decision I make after the whole thing, though.”

“I’m glad you’re doing what you want to do now,” Jinyoung assures him, and the two share a knowing smile. After a beat, he tries his luck and asks Youngjae, “The music sheets on the keyboard in your living room… Are those the songs you sell or record as an artist yourself?” 

Youngjae wasn’t expecting Jinyoung to be interested in his hobbies, even being pleasantly surprised by the word choice he used to describe him. Nevertheless, Youngjae feels it was so easy to converse with his downstairs neighbor — he’s been meaning to say hi to him every time they passed each other through the gate, but never having the confidence to upon seeing his face and stride. Besides, Youngjae’s heart was still messily broken to pieces by Jaebeom that he never had the occuring thought to strike another conversation with a handsome guy like Jinyoung. His emotional state made him suffer too much to try new things. 

“Some of them I’m giving out, there’s one that I was meaning to record at the studio tomorrow morning…”

“Is it the one for him?”

Youngjae stays silent, and Jinyoung surmises he may have triggered something too personal to even ask. Regrets of joining him on his bed, even if they were just sitting (but still holding hands) finally crowd his thoughts as he readies himself to be kicked out. 

Instead, Youngjae plops himself back down on the bed, bringing Jinyoung with him. They lie side by side, Jinyoung frozen in place as he faces the ceiling and Youngjae chuckling at the apparent position they are currently in as he turns to the older’s side. They fingers are still intertwined. 

“I guess you could say once I record that song, it’ll be my closure with him. It sounds kind of stupid, I know, since it will literally be out in public and be, in a way, immemorialized but — that’s how I want to remember what we had, as painful as it ended. He still meant so much, and I want to remember our relationship fondly than filled with anger.”

Jinyoung understands the younger’s sentiments, knowing full well that Jinyoung had kept most of Jackson’s written anniversary letters to him in a box tucked in the hidden realms of his closet. He hasn’t looked through the contents in eight months, and it’s because he didn’t have to. He once thought maybe it was time to throw them out, burn them, tear them into pieces to finally conclude the connection they had but that wasn’t how Jinyoung wanted to remember Jackson. He finally finds comfort knowing there is a part of who they were together in his own space as long as he wasn’t reminded that it was there in the first place. 

Jinyoung isn’t as focused or distracted by the letters anymore, having read and memorized each misspelled Korean words and erasures and flimsy hearts that were written on them — to be honest to himself, Jinyoung has started forgetting what each letter entailed, a sign that he truly has been putting himself first after all this time. 

“It’s not stupid. It makes perfect sense to me,” Jinyoung reassures him, relaxing into the mattress as he turns his head to face Youngjae. They keep each other’s gaze for far too long, soft eyes melting into each other and lips simultaneously parting half way. 

“Jinyoung hyung, am I going to see you again?” Youngjae whispers, barely making out his request posed as a question. 

“We’re neighbors, Youngjae. Of course we’ll see each other.”

“That’s not — “

“— what you meant, I know,” Jinyoung finishes for him, lifting their hands to nudge his cheeks playfully. Youngjae sticks a tongue out but proceeds to yawn in his tiredness. 

“I have to wake up in five hours,” Youngjae moans, leaning into the touch. Jinyoung moves it a little to indicate that he wanted to let go, and with a little bit of hesitation Youngjae complies, but Jinyoung only uses this opportunity to caress the top of Youngjae’s head once more. He’s taken a liking to it by now. 

“I’ll make sure you’re awake by then.”

“I don’t think I’ll wake up by the sound of your knocking. I’m a heavy sleeper, hyung,” Youngjae mentions.

“Who says I’m knocking at your door?” This time, it is Youngjae who blinks in confusion. Instead of answering him, Jinyoung reaches over to his side where he had placed Youngjae’s phone, searching for the Clock app in order to set a few alarms as he turns the volume up. Before putting it back, he looks for Yugyeom’s contact information and quickly sends out a text. He takes out his own phone from his pocket, doing the same thing before placing it beside Youngjae’s. 

“That is, if you’re okay with this,” Jinyoung prompts, just wanting the approval of the younger for his proposition. 

“You should text Yugyeom that I’ll be okay in the morning, then,” Youngjae suggests with a shy smile. 

“Already did.”

Impressed, Youngjae pats Jinyoung’s arms with a chuckle. “You really have it all figured out, hyung.”

“Not everything,” Jinyoung counters, sliding his hand back in the spaces between Youngjae’s fingers. The younger doesn’t flinch and instead, accepts the position they are in and finally makes his way back to sleep. Jinyoung stays awake a little longer, more questions riddle his mind as to how he got here — but his heart isn’t complaining about it. He feels the steady beating and the rise and fall of his breath syncing with Youngjae. It has been a while since he felt so _comfortable_ like this, let alone with someone he just met. Does this count as a one night stand? Possibly, but only Jinyoung can make it as wholesome as this. 

He senses sleep creeping into his consciousness, and he lets it take over him just after pressing a gentle kiss onto Youngjae’s cheek. It wasn’t of lust, yet he should be honest with himself that the attraction was definitely there. But Jinyoung only wants Youngjae to realize that he hears him, and feels what he’s feeling, and that he is there. He’s not looking to make it jump right into something too serious, of course, but this is a start that he was not expecting at the slightest. 

For now, he will wake Youngjae up in five hours and accompany him to the recording studio. He’ll treat him to a hangover lunch — he knows the best breakfast place, thanks to Mark — and formally introduce themselves to each other without their past being brought up into the conversation. 

For now, Jinyoung will take care of Youngjae while he heals to the fullest. And Jinyoung will be with him in every step. 

**Author's Note:**

> there's not a lot of 2young stans out there, but i hope this was still an enjoyable read! they are my fave soft boys together. i wrote a 2young fic on my old ao3 account eons ago, and i missed writing their dynamic hence this lil (kinda long) fic. also, sorry for making jaebeom and jackson kind of a d*ck here??? not really, ig? that's just how it be sumtimez
> 
> follow me on twt im lonely and ramble on about youngjae a lot @crescentars


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